


Loyalty

by Get Dunked On (LittleKnownArtist)



Series: Swapfell side stories [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, F/M, References to Sex, Vague descriptions of violence, basically we know theyre intimate but nothing is in detail, hmmm it's 15+ I'd say, not quite m, physical non descriptive intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleKnownArtist/pseuds/Get%20Dunked%20On
Summary: Sans knew he was the best at many things, and therefor he deserved the best of certain things. Yet, it came as a surprise when the most ruthless, tyrannical, bloodthirsty woman known to monsterkind had taken an interest in him. he could have never fathomed that the queen of all monsters would proclaim loyalty to him.





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote all of this without a single line of dialogue, which is what you're NOT supposed to do, but eh.

Sans knew he was the best at many things, and therefor he deserved the best of certain things. He was allowed to try for a sentry position at sixteen. By twenty he had worked his way up through the ranks until he was a unit commander one below the captain, never before had one been promoted for their skills as Sans had. Yet, it came as a surprise when the most ruthless, tyrannical, bloodthirsty woman known to monsterkind had taken an interest in him. That his idol would someday bend to _his_ wishes. Although he was, as previously stated, the best at many things…he could have never fathomed that the queen of all monsters would proclaim loyalty _to him._

It had surprised him the first time he noticed the paw stroking the back of his skull, on alert by instinct, but confused that the queen was touching him. He allowed it, however, as it was the queen, whom he had vowed absolute loyalty to. He would not question her actions, although his cheekbones burned from her contact in the days to come. He became comfortable with her, and she became comfortable letting him into her world. In the breaks after she trained him—some questioned why she needed a guard if she was the best fighter in the underground—she told him of the ways that things used to be before the humans sealed them away, and the centuries after. He saw a side of her that he did not know before, and he felt that no others had been privy to either. Her rule was swift and final, ruthless, but she was also a woman who had once loved another man, and had loved the children that she had lost.

It was an ambush upon her one day, as they travelled into Hotland beneath cloaks which were supposed to hide their forms. How they had ever known where she would be was curious, but Sans dispatched all but one attacker before they could lay a single blow. One spoke against her before he dusted, wildly screaming about the king who had left her, and how she deserved the misery his departure left her in. Toriel had struck out against him, spattering his brains against the cave wall before he could dust completely. She was enraged, but behind that, Sans could see something, something else. He did not ask about it. Mention of the former king was still treason of the highest order, punishable by the same death the final attacker has suffered.

One of the more unfortunate traits Sans possessed was the way his emotions played across his face. Of the two, his brother had the natural talent for concealing his mood, while Sans did not. The queen spoke to him then, upon entering her private quarters, at the end of his shift. She spoke briefly, of the weight in her chest, and how she hated to be reminded of it. Despicable creatures, who blamed her for everything, yet did not know the half of it. Mixed with her tone, Sans heard loneliness. She had built great walls around herself, made of her subjects’ fear for her, respect for her, that she had also sealed herself in. Her words were few, and softly spoken, but Sans…Sans swore he could feel the same bitterness settle into his chest as she spoke of her former love. He felt so moved, so angry, so thrilled that she would share such intimate details of her former life that he gripped her hand as she turned to continue down the hall. He squeezed tightly. She did not have to think of _him_ anymore, if she did not wish to. She needed focus, focus on something else, something present. He would do anything to remove those feelings of loneliness, despair…  

She stared down at him, the crease between her brows smoothing as she stood in silence. If she was angry at _him_ , maybe she needed a distraction. She could focus on him, take it out on him, anything. Whatever she needed, he wished to provide for her.

He kissed her hand, teeth gently brushing the fur.

He looked up at her, unsure of what he was expecting. He was not expecting her to crouch down to him, and cup his skull in her hand. He was less expecting the touch of her lips against his teeth. His mind went blank besides warning bells for a moment, but then his eye sockets closed and he sunk into that kiss. She was soft. He held his unneeded breath even as she pulled away and his eyes came halfway open, skull feeling like it was full of cotton…until she stroked his skull in that familiar fashion and his entire face flared with plum magic and he muttered some excuse before fleeing.

He had sprinted. Why had he run away? He was panting and sweating when he fell against the locked door to his home, the ruckus awakening his brother on the couch. He ignored his brother’s questions as he wondered what he should leave in the will for said brother. Surely he’d be executed for refuting the queen’s advances. Or was it him that advanced on her? Had he lead her on? If he had a second more to kill his embarrassment, he would have agreed to whatever she wanted of him, as he was fond of her in a similar way. Now that he had made the stupid, animalistic decision to run away, he would be killed without a doubt, all fleeting thoughts of feeling her lips against his bones completely quashed.

He couldn’t get it notarized with such little notice, but surely his brother would see the will he left on his computer desk and act accordingly once Sans had been executed. He had marked the envelope “PAPYRUS” after all. So, in the morning, when he showed up for work, and his probable last glimpse of the queen, he was surprised to have her greet him as she did every morning, with a cup of tea. Surprisingly un-poisoned tea. He went about the day from there, slightly more cautious than normal—which was saying something, since he was always guarded. The first time the queen had him alone, she laughed to herself, bringing up the previous day’s events. He replied that he had not meant to run from her. He had meant every word he had said. He admitted this with a brightly colored face, and that, much quieter, he had enjoyed the kiss. Had he not run on instinct, he would have kissed her again.

She bent to him, stroking his skull, and sending him a message he understood at once. He kissed her. Her lips were soft, such an extreme contrast to every hard edge to his body.

Days later, he didn’t resist when she gripped at his spine. She didn’t resist when he pushed his magically-formed tongue against her own. He hesitated when she unclasped his armor, but took a deep breath and did the same to her cape. His hesitance came from inexperience. He did not wish to tell her he had no clue what they were doing aside from the occasional fanfiction he had come across on the undernet. He didn’t want to say anything, even as he bared her torso and stroked the smooth fur of her thighs.

He did alright, it would seem. She slept soundly, trapping him in her arms, wearing a softer expression than he had ever seen from her. When he saw his phone glow from across the room, he slowly untangled himself and trotted over to it. He let out a small hiss to see two missed calls from his sibling. He kept it on silent during the work day.

Fourteen text messages. He was three hours late arriving home. He was sometimes early, but never late. He blinked. He turned the phone completely off to preserve the battery and crawled back into bed with the queen. His brother would survive one night without him at home.

Papyrus questioned him, as he always did, and Sans glared at him. He needed to shut up. A few more nights with the queen, and Papyrus guessed correctly; Sans’s sputtering and blushing serving as his answer. Sans watched his brother dramatically lean against the doorframe, covering his face, face as bright with magic as his own. He told Sans that the queen was bad news. That she was sadistic and would probably do something terrible to him. Order him to do terrible things. Sans nearly laughed. The older skeleton just didn’t understand the situation. He would do _anything_ for his queen. More than that, Sans was beginning to understand that _he_ was in control.

Sans had expected the queen, with her reputation, to take control, but he somehow always found himself back in this position of power when he was intimate with her. She kept repeating to him that he could do whatever he wanted to her, and he was confused. He was, however, willing to do whatever Toriel wished, even if that meant hurting her. He sometimes pulled on her ears and bit into her flesh until he felt sticky blood ooze out along with the grit of dust and fur. She thanked him. He never knew she was capable of such sentiments, as she had never expressed such things publicly. Then again, their relationship went far beyond what the public would see now, didn’t it?

He was absolutely sure of this when she gave him the order to show his soul to her. It was a day when she had shown some trace of that pain, of that weakness she felt, that last lingering trace of insecurity in her own soul. He gave it without the slightest hesitation, although she gave him an expression as if she expected reluctance. He had nothing to hide from her. She had his unwavering loyalty, that loyalty which he prided himself in. Her gift was not nearly as advanced as his brother’s, who could see the nature of souls without touching them, without bringing them out, but Sans knew she saw from a touch of her fingertips everything that was in his soul. Her fingertips sent a shiver down his spine with how gently she smoothed them over its surface. He knew she saw that unwavering loyalty, his respect, his admiration for her. He knew it from her expression as she quickly returned the soul to his chest.

He knew it days later when she drew out his soul once again, following to pull hers from her chest as well. He showed the first indication of hesitance then. He was willing to do anything for her, he had said, and in time he would like to father children, but he wasn’t ready yet, even at the age of twenty-one. She had laughed openly at his reaction. Sans was not stupid, but no one had ever _told_ him that the _intent_ needed to be there for children to come forth.

Her soul was so…When she touched her soul to his own he knew, for the first time the depth of the anger, the grief, the wrath that she felt. He knew what she had felt to lose those two children in that one day, and then the betrayal she felt from her former spouse as she left her to miscarry the third child, the soulling she had growing in her own soul. She was so angry, so bitter, so _hurt._ So **_confused_**. He saw that she still, after all the pain he had caused her, after she had hardened her heart to her decision even when she came to regret the murders she had committed, she still loved him. She hated him. She still loved him, but it _hurt_ and she didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel so heartbroken after the loss of not two, but three children. Not when she had then gone on to take the lives of children who had been just as innocent as her own. She had closed herself off enough to be numb to the blood of those children in the moment, but in private, the image of their hollow eyes were too reminiscent of the children she’d had. He saw the fear that the rejection had caused her, and the decision she had made in her grief had ruined everything she had ever had. She felt guilty for her decision. Had she not acted so rashly, her spouse would not have left and her remaining child would have—

Sans bit her, drawing her attention away from their souls to their physical bodies. He kissed her and pushed her back onto the bed. He was utterly devoted to her. He wanted her to make new memories with him. He wanted to give her good things. Drunken laughter. Gentle kisses. Passionate sex. A world rid of those who would harm her. She deserved it.

He wondered when it was that he realized he had the fearsome, ruthless, powerful boss monster—queen of the entire underground—wrapped around his little finger.

Betrayal was something Sans felt firsthand when he glared at his brother, standing just behind the human child in the queen’s struggling garden. He had a job to do, and by failing, he had committed the highest order of treason. He had failed the kingdom, failed the queen. Sans realized in a moment of clarity that Papyrus had brought the child here, led them here.

To take the queen’s soul…

Papyrus brought the human child here to _murder_ Toriel. Papyrus was his own brother. His own brother wanted to take away the underground’s hope. Take away his brother’s partner. He snarled at Papyrus, ground out his disdain. Papyrus was too soft. He had let the child pass him by because he didn’t have the resolve to do his job. He showed how soft he was when he shrunk away from Sans, staring down at his feet, dismissively.

Sans hardly remembered what happened by the end of it. Everything went black, then red, then white. He had snapshots in time in his head. Blurry and confusing like trying to remember a dream, the images danced across his vision and the sounds rang in his skull.

A child’s scream.

White fur drenched in red, leaking out from a muzzle with angry, whispered words.

Dust, and a purple cloak fluttering around it.

The memory of the most intense rage he’d ever felt.

Then disorientation.

Then, he was leading the way back through the cave entrance. He was seeing the sky for the first time. God. Was that what the queen had spoken about? He looked back at the queen, so many questions on his tongue.

He had never seen the queen cry. She did, now. She let out horrific sobs as she embraced a…small monster child. He had more questions. These questions took a long time to answer, still being answered days later, even as the small monster child’s form had changed to that of a doll, and the human child tentatively puttered around himself and the queen. The roles between himself and Toriel shifted, but remained the same, as well. He was no longer her guard. He was still spending his days with her, however. He was a warrior, a mercenary, a guard with a high LV, and the days were long, he was anxious. They were together, though. Working through the years of violence together, now, in this much bigger, and slightly more peaceful world.

 

* * *

My friends are awful. Okay, well, I started it with the song thing, but they're enablers.  
The song is [F*ck Away the Pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0LMdGSBK-E&;t=0s&;list=PLD3479E81E774A485&;index=6)  
Welp. This is canon for my swapfell comic  
[Which starts here](https://get-dunked-on.tumblr.com/post/171846371437/page-1-please-excuse-my-comic-drawn-out-of-spite)  
Although there will be no nsfw in the main comic.


End file.
